


Seeing Red. Seeing Too Much. Feeling. Too. Much.

by whoseeswhatsyetunseen



Series: Arrowcave Adventures [11]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Crying, Doggy Style, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Panic Attacks, Running, Shock, Woman on Top, minor olicity hints, response to episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoseeswhatsyetunseen/pseuds/whoseeswhatsyetunseen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s about Felicity, mostly, right after episode 2x20 “Seeing Red” occurs.<br/>Felicity stood in the foundry.  No one else was there.  She wasn't sure exactly where anyone else was but they were not down here.<br/>Felicity released a silent sob and stood there shaking for a few minutes.  Some unspoken communication had occurred and everyone just wanted everyone else to leave them alone.<br/>Felicity would not be able to be what Oliver needed.  Not yet.  She just felt too deeply, saw too clearly, and sometimes this was not a good thing.<br/>But now a huge wave of exhaustion smacked her to her knees.  She let it.  Sinking onto the cold hard floor.  And before she realized, her phone was in her hand, and someone's unexpected face and name were under her thumb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Red. Seeing Too Much. Feeling. Too. Much.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s smutty. It’s dark. It may have a certain dark knight playing a part. I’m not sure how that happened. I’m not sorry that it did.

Felicity stood in the foundry. No one else was there. She wasn't sure exactly where anyone else was but they were not down here.

Everything appeared normal. Dented tables and training equipment. Too many computers and cables and blinky lights. Organized weapons and medical supplies.

But no Oliver. John. Sara or Roy. No Thea up in the club...those doors were locked up tight with no sign of opening soon, or again.

Felicity released a silent sob and stood there shaking for a few minutes. Some unspoken communication had occurred and everyone just wanted everyone else to leave them alone.

Just the picture of having to look into Oliver's face after...after HE did what he did, HOW he did, his parting words to the orphaned Queens...

Felicity would not be able to be what Oliver needed. Not yet. She just felt too deeply, saw too clearly, and sometimes this was not a good thing.

Diggle. Somewhere doing something for Oliver and Thea. Always the good big brother. The silent, unsung brother, steady hand, voice of experience and restraint...but she would never forget his expression when they got the news.

Words. Fail. Someone's mother, two someones they cared for almost more than themselves. He had watched his own mom die, watched his baby sister watch. If Felicity had to label John's face? Fury, despair, failure, shock...

After the phone calls and rushing to various locations and the police and everything, Felicity came back here.

Empty. Like her heart. Like her ability to speak, to comfort, to comprehend. And she liked it.

But now a huge wave of exhaustion smacked her to her knees. She let it. Sinking onto the cold hard floor. And before she realized, her phone was in her hand, and someone's unexpected face and name were under her thumb.

Why. Why? She stared at the handsome man on her phone. She only knew him professionally, through QC.

Bruce Wayne. Another billionaire with an air of deception and mystery behind a facade of business and play.

He had asked her out three times. She had kindly refused three times. He had finally stopped flirting. Polite indifference was their game at company functions now.

So, why?

She pressed her thumb down before she asked herself that again.

Ring. Ring. Ri--

"Felicity Smoak, hello my dear," he answered serenely. "It's been on the news the entire evening. Are you alright?"

She closed her eyes. She didn't want concern. "I'm fine."

He heard her true answer through that. They both paused. He cleared his throat.

"Can you send a car, Bruce?" she stopped whatever he was about to say.

"Of course. Where are you?"

"The club. How soon?"

She heard him cover the phone and speak to someone. "Twenty minutes, I'm sending someone I've used when in your city. I'm up in Central at the moment. I'll see you in just under two hours, Felicity."

"Thank you." She sighed. "For the car. And for not asking questions."

"I'm just glad you called." She nodded. "Would you like to stay on the phone while you wait?"

"Tell me about your week." She stood and went to sit in her chair.

\---> \--->

The driver nodded, helped her into the car, and drove in silence.

Felicity thought it was the most perfect car ride of her life.

She dozed a little but mostly she sat frozen, just watching the city lights. Starling City faded, Central grew brighter.

The driver pulled into the Plaza and Bruce Wayne himself was there to open her door. Any other time, and the young valet's expression would have been laughable.

"Felicity," Bruce smiled tenderly. They walked to the penthouse elevator in silence.

The theme for the night, after the horrors of the evening.

His hand on her back was warm. It was strong and sure. Felicity grabbed that strength and yanked it into herself.

And as the doors slid closed, she spun and yanked the well-built man down into her suddenly cold and trembling self.

"Feli--” She pulled his head and kissed him hard. He had nothing to say that she want to hear at the moment. He groaned against her lips. Ok, she liked that sound.

He gripped her hips and opened his mouth, kissing her deeply, groaning again as she pushed them into the side of the elevator.

The doors opened directly into the penthouse. She barely noticed the beautiful and expensive decor, the amazing city view.

Bruce still held her waist but as they walked into the living room, he released her and stepped back.

She was breathing hard. God, she wanted to stop thinking! She was so sick of thinking and feeling and fixing and playing sick games with bad guys. Tired of pain. Of tears. Of worry.

Bruce held up his hands. "Whoa whoa whoa," he stepped back to her and cupped her cheek, but moved slightly away when she reached for him again.

"Felicity. FELICITY." She stopped and looked up into his face. "I'm fine being used as a warm body tonight, but I think we need to talk, too, at some point." She blinked. He sighed and pulled her in for a hug. "You just said all that out loud, you do realize that, right?"

Fuck. She closed her eyes. "Sorry." But then she was thinking again! "No, actually, I am not sorry."

She separated and undressed right there. He smirked for a moment before she was frantically undressing him and shoving him down onto the nearest couch.

She moaned so loudly when she saw his erection that she was sure the whole hotel heard. She squeezed it in her hand as she climbed unto his gloriously hard body.

"Pocket. Pants," he said as he ground his teeth. Felicity growled, reached over and tossed his pants onto his chest. He pulled out a few condoms and she grinned for the first time in a long time.

\---> \--->

If Bruce had been some ordinary man, he would have been scared shitless by the expression on the petite, naked blond hovering over his knees.

He put on the condom faster than anything he had ever done in his life. Felicity was making primal, sensual, sounds as she touched her breasts and stomach, and then down to her slit; she gasped as he rolled the protection down his aching penis and he looked up to see her spreading her own juice over herself.

For a moment, he wished she wasn't there, or that she was but, only because he had just wined and dined and danced her into lust.

But he gave up his ideas. This had nothing to do with him, really.

She gripped him suddenly and he gripped the couch cushions as she whispered "fuckfuckfuckFUCK!" through clenched teeth and lowered herself completely onto him.

He filled her. She was tight and he worried as she started to rise off that she was too tight. But she moaned "yyyyeesssss..." And took him completely again. And again.

\---> \--->

Oh fuck he was big! She would normally pause to allow herself to adjust but she was desperate to feel full, even physical pain. Anything that would make her not think or feel about today. About the last several days.

She lifted up and pushed back down. She glimpsed Bruce straining under her, holding tightly to the back and the arm of the sofa that she had pushed him onto. She knew it was taking a lot for him to resist seizing her and taking control. A part of her wanted to think about what that might mean, but instead she shifted her knees and began to really grind and bounce.

She felt the world fading. All her concentration was pinpointed on how she was moving her muscles, her body; how she was using a wonderful example of maleness to reach into her deeply. She rotated, causing Bruce to hiss and thrust up against her, and it touched somewhere long since forgotten by Felicity. Extreme pleasure, amazement, intense relief—she threw her head back and screamed. 

\---> \--->

He finally let go of the furniture and held her thin waist in his large hands. She moved her hands to her nipples and pinched. With Bruce holding her lightly, she closed her eyes tight and simply rode him; he watched her finding that spot again and shrieking something incoherent up to the ceiling.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Bruce grunted and he felt her clenching suddenly around his tip as he pulled her up and then back down. His entire shaft felt her quaking, squeezing, and he smiled as she panted, “yesyesyesyesssss!”

She slowed her bouncing as she lowered her face and opened her eyes. Her pupils were huge; she looked lost in her climax. He continued his thrusts, smaller and slower, but no way in hell he was gonna stop. He smiled again as she blinked and finally looked him in the eyes.

“Wow, just, yeah….shit…” she moaned and smiled, the first shy expression from her so far this night. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and sat up; he kissed her sweat covered face a few times before sucking her tongue into his mouth. When she sighed and moaned happily, he took the chance to reposition her.

\---> \--->

Felicity was warm, a soothing electricity vibrating through her entire body. She was aware of her ears, the roots of her hair, her elbows, her toenails…she was positive she had never cum quite like that before. She was about to start analyzing why this was different when Bruce suddenly moved.

She gasped and threw out her arms as the large upholstered ottoman came flying into her view. But strong arms stopped her forward momentum, gently lowering her, and then large hands pulled her hips back and up. She glanced back just in time to see Bruce, all muscles and focus and man—she almost climaxed just looking at him about to enter her from behind—and enter her he did.

She braced for it to be awkward. It was anything but awkward. She bit her lip, whimpered and groaned, as his rock hard penis filled her again. Her pussy eagerly took him. He moaned and reached down to grab her hands, pinning them to her back and she panted with excitement.

She almost never came more than once, and she had never done anything remotely rough but having him take control was exactly what she needed now. So she closed her eyes again and focused on the sensations.

Slight pain where her arms strained back. The firm, hot grip on her wrists. The smooth fabric rubbing under her chest and face as he pumped into her. It was slow at first. Long, slow, deep, rubbing new—“Oh, god, yesss…uhmm Bruceyessss…”

\---> \--->

He loved feeling her and hearing her but he was about to lose control. He released her wrists, pulled her hips closer and let loose. He hammered rapidly, his pelvis striking her beautiful ass so fast it was a blur. He felt his sac flying and knew he was making contact with her clit as she began to grunt every time he did. 

“Fuck,” he rumbled. He saw her reach under and start to play with her clit; she gave a startled squeal of pleasure as his balls found her fingers. He felt himself tighten and in a desperation that surprised him, he pushed her down onto her stomach and pistoned into her until he roared and released hard.

He spasmed and she moaned and clenched and came again. He was breathing heavily. His arms and legs were shaking. He sank onto his knees, pulling the limp Felicity with him. She sighed as she settled into his lap, resting her head and arms on the ottoman.

Bruce smoothed her hair from her sweaty face and neck, gently mouthing her neck as their breathing slowed to normal. He watched the side of her face but remained silent. He still wasn’t too sure why she had come to him; or what she actually wanted to get from this.

But he had had a small crush on her since he met her and he was certainly glad to have consummated it. Now he was satisfied to just follow her lead again.

\---> \--->

Felicity liked how Bruce nuzzled and kissed her neck. After that hard finish, the gentle touches seemed perfect. She estimated they sat beside the ottoman for about five minutes before she shivered as the air cooled her sweat coated skin. And she felt Bruce slide out from her satisfied pussy lips. And then reality slapped her brain.

“Oh, wow, Bruce, I…I…that…I’m…uhh…normally…well…” She felt herself blush and knowing it was from her sudden shyness and shock at herself, and the fact that she was sitting naked in a billionaire’s naked lap, in the penthouse living room overlooking an entire city…it made her squeeze her eyes shut and try to stand all at the same time.

She felt Bruce help her to sit upon the ottoman. She sensed him stand, knew he was removing the used condom, and then heard him walk away. She was just about to take a deep breath and open her eyes when she felt him suddenly drape a blanket over her shoulders and lift her hair to smooth it back down over the top of fabric.

“Can I get you anything, Felicity?” He had moved away again. That was good. She was sure that one more kind touch and she would have curled into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably into the rug.

She swallowed and opened her eyes. He was in the kitchen, wearing flannel pj pants. “Uh, do you have any orange juice?” He nodded and turned away. She stood, wrapping the soft fabric tightly around herself, and went to look down at the city. It was an amazing vista.

“I’ve always loved this penthouse’s view the best,” he said as he joined her with a couple glasses of juice. She gulped most of hers down in one shot while he sipped his and smiled at her.

“Oh, I was thirsty,” she sighed. She avoided his eyes. “Yeah, it’s very…soothing, the view. Being so high, away from it all.” Images flashed through her mind—Deathstroke choking Sara, Diggle being tossed, Oliver almost falling down the stairs into her arms, Thea’s disgust with her family, blood…stitches…broken bones…scars…She shuddered and nearly dropped the glass.

“Hey,” Bruce took the near empty cup and placed it on a side table. “Sit down,” he whispered as he guided her to a chair. She sank into it, still wrapped in the blanket, and felt wetness trickle down her cheeks. She looked up at Bruce.

He looked worried. But he didn’t make another move to comfort her. Instead he started to gather her clothing, folding them neatly and setting them on the ottoman. Then he picked up his and walked into another room.

Felicity looked at her stack of clothes. ‘What have I done?! This isn’t me, not even close! I shouldn’t be here. I should be…I need…Oliver, John…they…crap.’

A few minutes later, or maybe just a few seconds, she didn’t care to figure it out, Bruce was back. He held open a fluffy navy blue robe. “I just started the guest room’s bath for you. Put this on.” It was said softly but was clearly an order. She was relieved she had no choice to argue. He helped her as she untangled from the blanket and slipped into the robe. “Grab your clothes. Would you like them laundered tonight?”

She opened her mouth to protest. “No, no,” he shook his head, gave her arm a rub, and pointed to the hall leading to the bedrooms. “I’m not sending you home now, in the middle of the night. But I have an important call to take in twenty minutes; international trading can suck at times. So if you want to sleep, I highly suggest the guest room.” He smiled and shrugged. “I tend to get loud on conference calls, I hate using the provided tiny office, so I end up pacing in my bedroom. So you’ll never fall asleep in my bed.”

She looked at him carefully and decided he knew how conflicted she now was to be there and was giving her an excuse to not actually have to sleep with him, as in sleep sleep. So she nodded and followed him into a guest bathroom larger than her whole master suite at home.

She could smell roses and was basically putty in his hands as he removed her robe and helped her into the tub. It was hot and stinging and perfect. 

“Thank you, this is nice,” she mumbled. “Bruce.”

He laughed quietly, gave her a quick peck on the top of her head and walked out. She surrendered to the scent and heat and everything she had been trying NOT to think about. Small sobs fell into the bath water and she didn’t try to stop.

For the first time since she watched Diggle listen to Oliver over the phone after…for the first time, she really allowed herself to be emotional. For her friend and partner, for his sister; for Roy, and Roy and Thea; for Sara and Oliver; for Cin and Sara; for all the Lances. For John. For herself…

She faintly heard the low rumble of Bruce on his call. It was oddly soothing. Normally she was anxious whenever she was away from her normal surroundings. But, she sadly acknowledged to herself, maybe she was just too exhausted for normal feelings. 

The water slowly cooled around her sore body. She didn’t want Bruce to have to help her again, so she got herself up, dried off, combed her hair, and climbed into the huge guest bed. She panicked. What if she couldn’t sleep? What if every time she began to, she would see Oliver destroyed and hopeless?

She sat up and started to breathe fast. She clutched the comforter to her chest. Her hair was cold down her back. She tried to slow her panic but now she was seeing Diggle being thrown across the guest room. She started to cry. Sara was being strangled at the foot of her bed.

She wasn’t sure but she must have made some sort of noise because Bruce rushed into the room, the door slamming against the wall.

She reached for him because she knew he had never been at Deathstroke’s mercy and she needed that. She clutched him, felt her eyes wide and wild, heard herself wheezing to fill her lungs.

“Shh, Felicity, shh, it’s ok, you’re safe,” he wrapped her in his arms. “Just let it all go, don’t try to think or fix it tonight.”

‘How did he know? How did he know her brain was not letting her rest?!’

“Breathe, breathe,” he leaned into her face, nose to nose. “In. Out. In. Out.” She watched his eyes, felt his breath on her face. She took a few gasping gulps in and puffed them out.

“Good, again.” He sat back, kept his heavy hands on her shoulders. “In, out. Good.” He nodded and she bobbed her head back. “Ok, gonna get you something to drink, and eat. Stay here and breathe.” He stood and strode to the door but paused and turned back. “No thinking while I’m gone, Ms. Smoak,” and he cracked the barest of smiles before leaving the room.

She just focused on filling her lungs slowly and counting the groupings of flowers on the wallpaper out in the hall. He returned with a tumbler of an amber liquid and a small plate of crackers.

He gave her the food first, standing at the side of the bed, watching her chew each one and swallow. The back of her mind tickled, telling her she should be upset being treated like a child by basically a stranger…but she counted the stripes on his pjs instead.

“Better?” he whispered as he took the plate and gave her the liquor. She gulped it down before she could smell or taste it and covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she coughed. “Good stuff, huh?” 

She smiled widely and rolled her eyes. ‘Huh, feels weird to smile…’

“Thanks, again.” She felt her eyelids slide down and snapped them open again. “I’m sorry…didn’t mean…” she licked her lips and blinked again. “…for you to take…care of me, sorry…”

She felt his hand on her cheek. Felt the covers fit under her chin…she was lying down again…soft…warm…quiet…nothing…

“Hey,” she tried to shout and open her eyes. “You…what…”

“Shhh, sleep, baby. Just a little sleeping pill, nothing too strong.” She thought she was frowning but all she was really aware of was the cloud she was floating on.

“Hmmm….” And she fell into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and kudos appreciated. :D


End file.
